


Victory and Ice Cream

by bethagain



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Ice Cream, Romance, they also have flannel pajamas, yes they have ice cream in the GFFA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:30:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9214856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethagain/pseuds/bethagain
Summary: A victory in battle, a private apartment, Luke Skywalker, and chocolate ice cream.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for macaroniandsqueezblr on tumblr, who was in need of some Luke Skywalker/reader fluff. 
> 
> Also thank you to iphys_nikephoros for the beta, including helping me get the physics of ice cream bars right.
> 
> (I was almost blushing too hard about this one to share it here, but what the heck. Onward with the 2017 New Year's Resolution, in which bethagain writes more stuff!)

Sparkler rockets are reflecting off the windows of the tall buildings all around you, brightly colored signs of celebration on this planet that’s no longer controlled by the Empire. You’re watching from a balcony high above the laughing, shouting crowds in the city square. Luke’s behind you, arms around your waist, the warmth from his body helping to block out the evening chill. 

He’s trying to tell you the plans for a formal ceremony in the morning, where the two of you will be expected to join the other Alliance leaders in turning the government back over to the people. The pain in your ankle is making it hard to focus.

You shift your weight, trying to take the pressure off the injured side.

Luke notices right away. 

“What’s wrong?”

You sigh, irritated with yourself. “I must have sprained it worse than I thought.” It was a stupid way to get hurt, not even in battle. You’d landed first, gone running up to Luke as he climbed out of the cockpit of his own X-wing, and tripped over a messenger droid. He’d caught you before you hit the ground and lifted you up to spin you around in a hug--but you’d already twisted your ankle. You were able to keep walking on it, make it through the debriefing, get up to this luxurious loft that the local Senator insisted the two of you accept. 

But it hurts, and standing here--even though you want to watch the fireworks--is making it worse.

Luke immediately lets go of your waist and scoops you up into his arms. “Is this better?”

It is, much better. Not only is the weight off your ankle, now you’re snuggled up against him. It’s warmer that way, too. But you know he’s tired. It was a long battle today. And a long month of fighting against the Imperial occupation. It feels like you’ve been awake and on high alert for weeks. And now it’s finally over, and every muscle in your body is calling for sleep.

“How about if we just head for bed?”

“That sounds good,” he says.

“I can walk,” you offer, shifting to hop down to the floor.

“No way,” he says. “I love flying with you, but I’ve hardly seen you on the ground in weeks. I’m not letting go until morning.”

 

You wake up alone in the huge bed. Soft sheets feel amazing against your skin. For the past month you’ve been sleeping in briefing rooms, on cots in makeshift barracks, in the cockpit of your starfighter. You think about just staying here the rest of the day. But where did Luke get to? He said he wasn’t letting go til morning!

“It’s morning,” he says from the bedroom doorway. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of soft flannel pajama bottoms. He takes a bite out of something in his hand, then stands there smiling at you. “See?” he gestures at the window, and you can see that he’s holding an ice cream treat on a stick. “It’s getting light. Morning.”

“And you’re eating ice cream for breakfast?”

“The conservator’s stocked full of it. Apparently ice cream is a big part of celebrations here. The Senator didn’t want us to go without.” Luke crosses to the end of the bed and climbs onto it, crawling his way up your body and then snuggling in beside you. He offers you a bite of ice cream. It’s cold on your lips and it tastes delicious after weeks of military rations. “How’s the ankle?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, thinking about the ceremony you’re supposed to go to. “Can I pretend I can’t walk on it? I think I need to stay in bed today.”

Luke’s thoughtful for a moment, biting off a bit of chocolate coating. Then he hands you what’s left of the ice cream, jumps up from the bed, and disappears through the doorway.

He’s back a few minutes later, a new ice cream bar in his hand. “I got the Senator on the radio. I told her you’re injured and we can’t possibly make it to the ceremony.”

“Luke!” You’re mortified. After the Senator’s been so kind to put you up in this lovely apartment, invite you to a celebration, stock the ‘servator with ice cream?

He grins. “She laughed at me. Asked if we needed any more chocolate freezes.”

“Oh. I guess that’s all right then.” Ice cream is starting to drip down your hand. You catch it with your mouth, licking up the sweet vanilla stickiness, before taking the last bite and setting the stick on the table beside the bed. “So, what shall we do today?”

Luke tilts his head, watching you. “Want to practice?”

“Depends on what,” you say. You have a few ideas. Although the thing at the top of your mind, you’re both already pretty good at.

He laughs, catching your thought. “That too,” he says. “Definitely. But you did promise me when we had time…”

He’s right, you did promise. And you do want to learn. As a child, you’d always imagined what it would be like to be in touch with the Force, to be able to do the magical things that the Jedi Knights could do. You never imagined you’d actually be able to do any of it.

But when you and Luke first met, he’d stared at you like you were the answer to a mystery he’d been studying for years. And you’d been astonished to _sense_ his astonishment. 

And now, he’s come over to sit cross-legged beside you in bed, sunbleached hair standing up every which way, blue eyes crinkled with laughter as a half-eaten ice cream bar levitates from his hand to your lips. 

“Go ahead,” he says, and you’re laughing too as you try to take a bite. The ice cream bar bobs away from you. 

“Stop that!” 

“You catch it then,” he says, continuing to float the ice cream slowly toward the end of the bed.

You take a breath, force yourself to stop laughing, to steady your mind. Slowly, the ice cream bar begins to move back toward you, until it’s hovering beside Luke’s head. “Your turn,” you say.

He tries to catch it with his teeth but you don’t have great control yet and it winds up hitting him just below his left eye. He leans back quickly, smiling as he lifts a hand to wipe at his face, and you shakily float the bar after him. It makes a few wobbly darts in the right direction, and then your eyes catch on his mouth, on the way his lips move--and the ice cream drops out of the air, landing on his chest and leaving a line of chocolate down his belly until it lands in his lap.

Luke jumps up with a yelp. “That’s COLD!”

He’s standing beside you, covered in chocolate ice cream, eyes sparkling, and there is no way you’re going to be able to concentrate now.

“Come on,” you say, picking up the melting treat and sucking up some of the soft ice cream from the top. “I’ll warm you back up.”

“I better go get cleaned up first,” he says. 

“I’ll take care of that too,” you say, reaching for his hand and pulling him back into bed.


End file.
